Faking With The Enemy: An Enemies-To-Lovers RomCom: Milestone Mischief #2

by Piper James

  Thankfully, Ivy moved on, her eyes scanning the other photos on the wall. Me, in front of Walton’s during our grand opening. Lola at her high school graduation. Rafe at that same event. The three of us one Christmas. My car, the day I’d picked it up from the paint shop.

  Finally, she turned and looked at me expectantly. I held out an arm toward the couch, inviting her to sit.

  “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, perching on one edge of the sofa.

  I nodded and sat down at the other end, leaving as much space between us as possible. Ivy seemed to relax a bit, angling her body toward me.

  “So, where should we start?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “I think we need to establish a set of rules,” she interrupted, the words spilling from her in a rush.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “What do you have in mind?”

  She gave me a tight smile as she pulled her phone from her purse. Tapping the screen a few times, she swallowed visibly before taking a deep breath and reading aloud.

  “Rule number one: No sex.”

  My head flew back as if she’d slapped me. Sex actually hadn’t even crossed my mind. Ivy and I barely tolerated each other in the best of times, so the idea that something intimate might spark between us seemed ludicrous.

  Or maybe not…

  The fact that Ivy felt the need to add that as rule number one on her list was interesting. Very interesting, indeed.

  8

  Ivy

  Oh, my God.

  The look on Nate’s face was my first clue that I’d fucked up. Royally. Making “no sex” a rule had seemed perfectly logical last night, when I was lying in bed, constructing my list. We were playacting for Charity’s benefit. None of this was real, so there was no reason to complicate things by fooling around in private.

  Yet, as I watched his lips curve up into an entirely-too-sexy-for-my-own-good smirk, I realized that making it a stated rule—the very first stated rule—had been a mistake. It only served to make Nate think I had been contemplating having sex with him. Which I hadn’t. Much.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, dragging the word out for far too long. “No sex. Got it.”

  “Ugh, I hate you,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

  “So, no hate sex, then?”

  “Shut. Up,” I growled, turning my eyes back to my list. “Rule number two: We need to tell Rafe the truth. I don’t want to lie to him about this.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “I don’t want to lie to him, either. Or Lola, for that matter. Jessa brought you up last night, and I told her and the others I’d asked you out. But they know us too well. They’d never buy that we’re suddenly engaged after one date.”

  I gave him a firm nod. I wanted to ask him what she’d said. Had she told him what I said about why I hated him? No, she wouldn’t break my confidence like that, and Nate would surely be asking me about it now if she had. So I let it go and moved on.

  “Rule number three: No seeing other people, even if you think you’re being discreet. I don’t want to go through all of this just to fail because you can’t keep your magic dick in your pants.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “Can you please stop saying that?”

  “What?” I asked, fighting a grin. “Magic dick?”

  “Yes, that,” he growled. “I admit it. I was a cocky bastard in high school. I’m not that guy anymore.”

  “Aren’t you?” I shot back, arching one eyebrow.

  “Okay, maybe a little,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “But I haven’t called it that in years, and I’m going to beat Rafe’s ass for telling you that.”

  I returned his smile, then realized I was doing it and cleared my throat. “Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now. Anything you’d like to add?”

  “I’d like to amend rule three to include you keeping it in your pants, as well.”

  “Of course,” I said, feeling my face heat. “That was implied.”

  His saying that was a moot point. I had no prospects and hadn’t in a long time. It was almost embarrassing, how long it had been since I’d gotten any dick. Magic, or otherwise.

  “Rule number four,” he said, pulling me out of my depressing thoughts, “when we’re in public, we need to show affection. Milestone is a small town with lots of gossipmongers, so word will get around if the community’s newest it-couple are acting frosty toward each other.”

  I nodded and started typing, adding the rule to the list. The couch dipped, and my gaze shot to Nate, who was sliding closer.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my nerve endings firing sparks as I attempted to burrow further into my corner.

  “We need to practice,” he said, closing the gap between us even more. “How are we going to make this believable if you can’t even sit close to me?”

  He had a point. I forced my body to relax, and didn’t flinch away when he closed the distance between us completely. His thigh pressed against mine from hip to knee, and before I could react, his arm stretched across the back of the couch.

  When his fingertips brushed gently against my shoulder, I leapt to my feet and dodged around the coffee table. My gaze darted around the room before finally settling on a spot just above his head.

  “Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” I stuttered, inwardly flinching at the nervous vibrato in my voice.

  “Sure,” he said, then pointed. “It’s through there.”

  I nodded awkwardly and forced my feet not to run as I headed in the direction he pointed. I ended up in a masculine bedroom and backtracked several steps when my eyes landed on a very large, very inviting bed. Why did he send me in here?

  “Sorry,” Nate called out as if reading my mind. “This is a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment.”

  I nodded and moved forward, averting my eyes from that bed as I passed by. Inside the bathroom, I closed the door and locked it before leaning back against it. After taking a few deep breaths, I moved to the sink and braced my hands against the countertop. Staring into the mirror, I frowned.

  “He doesn’t affect you. You don’t want him. You don’t even like him,” I whispered as I turned on the cold water.

  Cupping my hands under the flow, I splashed my face. Grabbing a hand towel from the nearby rack, I patted it against my skin to dry it. I froze, inhaling deeply as the scent of Nate’s cologne filled my nostrils.

  Jerking the towel away, I chastised myself as I firmly hung it back where I’d found it.

  No, Ivy. Bad. You don’t like it, and you don’t like him. He’s an ass. A womanizing, philandering ass.

  Steeling my spine, I unlocked the door and threw it open. I shrieked and stumbled back a few steps, pressing a palm to my chest to hold my heart in. Nate stood just outside the door, his long arms braced against the doorjamb.

  “Jesus, Nate,” I breathed. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he said, his smirk telling me he wasn’t sorry at all. “I just came to check on you. I couldn’t remember if I replaced the toilet paper roll, or not.”

  I shook my head and tried to push past him, but he didn’t budge. My chest brushed against his, making my breath catch in my throat before I took a quick step back. I ignored the tingling in my nipples as I leveled him with an angry look.

  “Excuse me,” I gritted out.

  He pushed away from the doorjamb with a soft smile, moving to the side to let me pass. I hurried through his bedroom, not breathing until I was safely back in the living room. Being alone with Nate near his bed was unacceptable.

  Because it was inappropriate. Not because I didn’t trust myself not to spread my body across that mattress like some pagan offering to the gods of magic dick.

  “I need to go,” I whispered, grabbing my phone and my purse.

  “Where are you going?” Nate asked when he came in and saw me grabbing my things.

  “I’ve…I just have to go. Sorry,” I said in a rush as
I practically jogged to the door.

  “But we’re not finished,” he argued. “We haven’t even ironed out any of the details yet.”

  “Sorry,” I repeated, throwing his front door wide. “I’ll call you later.”

  I slammed the door behind me and ran all the way to my car, not pausing until I was safely inside. Taking a few deep breaths, I pulled up the list on my phone and furiously typed in another rule.

  Rule number five: No falling for Nate Walton.

  “Hi, Mom,” I called out as I pushed through the front door of my childhood home.

  I’d made the decision to go home before leaving the parking lot of Nate’s apartment complex. It took an hour to drive there, which gave me plenty of time to think about my deal with Nate. About his fingers brushing my shoulder. About my chest leaning into his. About his bed.

  I shook off the thoughts as Mom rounded the corner from the kitchen, a big smile on her face. “Ivy, honey, what a surprise!”

  “A welcome one, I hope,” I teased, rushing forward to wrap myself up in her warm embrace.

  “Of course, it is,” she said, squeezing me tightly.

  My mother was the best. Always warm and welcoming, and always smelling like fresh baked bread. Or, like today, cookies.

  “Are you baking?” I asked, inhaling the sugary scent.

  “Is it Sunday?” she shot back, giving me a wink. “Come on. I just pulled some snickerdoodles out of the oven.”

  Once we settled at the table with coffee and cookies, she gave me a stern look. “Now, tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” I hedged, taking a sip of warm liquid gold.

  “Tell me why you came here out of the blue, needing your mama’s arms and reeking of quiet desperation.”

  “Tell me why you feel the need to wax poetic,” I shot back.

  “Ivy.”

  “Jeez, Mom. I’m fine. I missed you. That’s all.”

  “Mm hmm,” she muttered. “Eat your cookies. You’re too skinny.”

  I rolled my eyes but did as I was told. The sugary-cinnamon goodness melted on my tongue, and I moaned with pleasure. She could end wars with these things.

  “How’s everything at work?” she asked, apparently letting her accusations of ulterior motives drop. For the moment.

  “Good,” I said. “Busy, but good.”

  “And Rafe?”

  I rolled my eyes at her hopeful tone. She loved him more than I did, and had always not-so-secretly hoped we’d end up together like those silly friends-to-lovers romantic comedies she watched on cable television.

  “Rafe is really good, actually. He’s got a girlfriend, and she just moved in with him.”

  “No,” she said, her voice dramatically low. “I’d hoped…”

  “I know what you hoped,” I cut in, “and I’ve told you a thousand times it was never going to happen. Besides, you’re going to love Jessa. She’s funny and smart and perfect for Rafe.”

  “And she’s okay with him having a woman as his best friend?” she asked arching one silvery-blonde eyebrow.

  “Of course. We’ve actually become close, and she introduced me to a couple of her friends. We all go out together for girls’ nights and stuff.”

  “Well, I like her already,” she said, giving me a warm smile.

  She’d been on my case to make some girlfriends forever. She tried to convince me that working all the time and only socializing with Rafe wasn’t healthy, and I could finally admit she’d been partially right. Hanging out with Jessa, Felicia, and Karly had been like a breath of fresh air, giving me something I didn’t know I’d been missing.

  “And what about your love life?” she asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I tensed, not knowing how to answer the question I should’ve known she’d ask. The question she always asked. Nate and I had agreed to tell Rafe and Lola the truth, but we hadn’t discussed my family. I could trust her. That wasn’t the problem.

  The problem was, I knew she’d disapprove. And try to talk me out of it.

  “Ivy?” she asked when I didn’t respond with my normal denials and assurances that I didn’t need a man to be happy.

  “I’m seeing someone,” I blurted, my face heating with the lie.

  “You are? Who is he?”

  Her expression lit up with excitement, and I nearly caved and admitted the truth. Instead, I said, “Nate. Rafe’s younger brother.”

  “But…I thought you couldn’t stand him. Did something change?”

  “I guess he grew on me,” I muttered stupidly.

  Of course, I’d complained to Mom many times over the years about what an asshat Nate was. Of course, she was confused by my sudden change of heart. And then…she was smiling.

  “Like Emma and Hook in Once Upon A Time?”

  I pictured Nate in a black leather jacket, with black eyeliner making those blue eyes pop, and I had to shake my head to clear the image. I started to make some deadpan comment about real life not being like fantasy television, but the hopeful look on her face stalled me.

  “Sure. Why not?” I drawled, giving Mom an indulgent smile.

  She twittered a dozen questions that I tried to answer as vaguely as possible. She wanted details, but I didn’t have any to share. Maybe I should’ve stayed at Nate’s until we’d worked them all out. We were surely going to have to agree on an ironclad story before we told anyone else we were together.

  “Hey, Mom, is the Bel Air still out in the barn?” I asked once she’d ran out of questions about my new romance.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, her expression filled with confusion. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wanted to go see it,” I murmured.

  “The key is on the hook by the back door,” she said softly.

  I nodded and stood up, giving her a hug before walking away. Snatching the key from the hook, I slipped through the door and jogged down the back porch steps. The property was over an acre with a large wooden barn near the back fence. Dad had used it as a workshop, spending every weekend out there trying to bring the old car back to life.

  I slipped the key into the padlock on the barn door, and it made a rusty screeching sound as I twisted it open. Swinging the large doors wide, I wandered inside and flicked on the lights. As the fluorescent bulbs blinked to life, my eyes settled on the red and white beauty before me.

  The hood was still up, the engine in pieces like Dad had left it that awful Saturday afternoon. He’d taken a break for lunch, and halfway back to the house, he’d dropped to the ground. Mom had found him like that a few minutes later, laying on his side, clutching his left shoulder.

  He’d suffered a major heart attack, dying in my mother’s arms before the ambulance had even arrived. I was still in school, finishing up my nursing degree. I’d never forget the tremor in Mom’s voice when she called me that day. She’d broken down into sobs before she even got all the words out.

  I ran my fingers over the faded paint of the trunk and tried to imagine what the car would look like once Nate finished with it. He was talented, and I had no doubt if anyone could bring her back to life, it would be him.

  Mom had a lifetime of memories with Dad that she cherished, but this car was an unfinished chapter. Driving it would bring a sense of peace and closure to her that I knew she was missing. I wanted to give that to her.

  And if pretending to be in love with Nate Walton was the cost, I’d happily pay it.

  I just had to keep my temper—and my heart—locked up behind a wall of indifference. I could do that. Right?

  9

  Nate

  “Hey, Nate, that catalytic converter for the Chevy came in. Mike is putting it in, now. Should be ready to go by two.”

  I nodded absently, my eyes glued to the selection of diamond rings on my computer screen. Which one would Ivy like best? I had no idea. And I didn’t want to spend a small fortune on something she’d hate, fake engagement, or not.

  “Hey, you okay?” Dane asked, stepping all the way through m
y office door and closing it behind him. “You seem…distracted.”

  I minimized the screen on my computer as he neared and looked up at him with a fake-as-shit smile. “I’m good, bro. How are things going out there? Did the cat come in for that Chevy?”

  “Dude. What the hell is going on with you? Did you get another threat from Charity?”

  “No,” I said, sighing. “It’s not that.”

  He stared at me with an expectant expression, waiting for me to cave. And I would cave, no doubt about it. Dane had this way of waiting someone out, and his patience practically forced the truth into the open. It was a sorcery I wished I’d possessed.

  “What I’m about to tell you stays in this room,” I said, and his face twisted up like I’d just insulted him.

  “That goes without saying. You know that,” he said.

  “Sorry. I’m not thinking straight.” I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts before leaning back and scrubbing a hand down my face. “You remember when you told me it was too bad I didn’t have a girlfriend? That if I did, she would solve all my problems with Charity?”

  “Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out like a question.

  “Well, I decided you were right. At least, mostly right. I don’t think a mere girlfriend would stop her, but a fiancée would.”

  Dane’s expression turned shell-shocked for a moment before he burst into laughter. Loud guffaws echoed off the walls, irritating me beyond reason. When he saw my pissed-off frown, he sobered.

  “Wait. You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” I said. “And I already talked Ivy into doing it. She’ll pretend to be engaged to me, and I get to restore her mother’s fifty-five Bel Air convertible. It’s a win-win.”

  Dane’s eyes widened into saucers as his mouth fell open. “You mean Ivy Anderson?”